Reverie
The stories we share are six thousand minor tragedies
Six thousand variations on the same theme
Six thousand roads with no redemption to the same old destination
Six thousand of the same streets with different names
And the same despair hangs in the sky of the same grey
The same two hands tick by another blank page of a day
We're all scrabbling around for change for a better story
Just don't share it with me, it will depress or bore me
Who the fuck ever told you that you had a chance?
Who would tell you a lie like that?
Some fantasy a faraway someone happened to scheme up
For a big screen reverie or paperback
They're made to sell you lies like that
But if they didn't, how would we know what to dream of?
The stories we share are six thousand distractions
Six thousand ways to lie about how you've been
Behind faces of six thousand deepening lines, a race of six thousand gridlocked minds
Six thousand damnations of the dream to dare to dream
And the same indifference hangs in the sky of the same grey
The same two hands draw a blank on another page, another day
What's the minimum amount of change you can buy a better story for?
Don't tell me how it ends, I've heard this one before
Who the fuck ever told you that you had a chance?
Who would tell you a lie like that?
Some fantasy a faraway someone happened to scheme up
For a big screen reverie or paperback
They're made to sell you lies like that
But if they didn't, how would we know what to dream of?
You don't have the heart to tell me I'm heartless
I'm not smart enough to tell you the possibilities are startless
So I disappear into drink and sometimes dance
Always bad comedy, sometimes bad romance
So when you ask me how I've been, I'll have something to speak of
Who the fuck ever told you that you had a chance?
Who would tell you a lie like that?
Some fantasy a faraway someone happened to scheme up
For a big screen reverie or paperback
They're made to sell you lies like that
But if they didn't, how would we know what to dream of?
What would we speak of?
Six thousand variations on the same theme
Six thousand roads with no redemption to the same old destination
Six thousand of the same streets with different names
And the same despair hangs in the sky of the same grey
The same two hands tick by another blank page of a day
We're all scrabbling around for change for a better story
Just don't share it with me, it will depress or bore me
Who the fuck ever told you that you had a chance?
Who would tell you a lie like that?
Some fantasy a faraway someone happened to scheme up
For a big screen reverie or paperback
They're made to sell you lies like that
But if they didn't, how would we know what to dream of?
The stories we share are six thousand distractions
Six thousand ways to lie about how you've been
Behind faces of six thousand deepening lines, a race of six thousand gridlocked minds
Six thousand damnations of the dream to dare to dream
And the same indifference hangs in the sky of the same grey
The same two hands draw a blank on another page, another day
What's the minimum amount of change you can buy a better story for?
Don't tell me how it ends, I've heard this one before
Who the fuck ever told you that you had a chance?
Who would tell you a lie like that?
Some fantasy a faraway someone happened to scheme up
For a big screen reverie or paperback
They're made to sell you lies like that
But if they didn't, how would we know what to dream of?
You don't have the heart to tell me I'm heartless
I'm not smart enough to tell you the possibilities are startless
So I disappear into drink and sometimes dance
Always bad comedy, sometimes bad romance
So when you ask me how I've been, I'll have something to speak of
Who the fuck ever told you that you had a chance?
Who would tell you a lie like that?
Some fantasy a faraway someone happened to scheme up
For a big screen reverie or paperback
They're made to sell you lies like that
But if they didn't, how would we know what to dream of?
What would we speak of?
Credits
Writer(s): Josh Booth
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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